


if you wait too long, you’ll never see dawn again

by ElasticElla



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (mostly implied as we're in maia's pov), Alternate Canon, F/F, Manipulation, Summer Scorcher 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 14:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: “I hear you’re about to be the wolf in charge.”Maia doesn’t jump. She’s a goddamned werewolf, the darkness is her cradle or whatever and her senses are immaculate.





	if you wait too long, you’ll never see dawn again

**Author's Note:**

> for [le ficathon](http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/84892.html) & femslashrevolution's [summer scorcher](http://femslashrevolution.tumblr.com/tagged/Summer-Scorcher-2017)
> 
> title from dmb's werewolf heart, minus a few words  
> this is a pretty rough au, um it was /supposed/ to just be smut but plot kept sneaking in so uh set sometime ~recently after maia was turned and before camille went to jail

“I hear you’re about to be the wolf in charge.” 

Maia doesn’t jump. She’s a goddamned werewolf, the darkness is her cradle or whatever and her senses are immaculate. (A little too immaculate in fact, the stray alley cat pissed all over the dumpster again, and don’t even get her started on what’s _in_ the dumpster.)

Point is, she doesn’t startle, she just turns around a little too quick for mundane eyes to track. She registers the lack of heartbeat as she sees the vampire, lips curling up in an involuntary snarl. 

Camille rolls her eyes, “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have announced my presence. Shall we go inside to talk?” 

Camille stands between her and the backdoor, the alley’s escape route wide open. Maia doesn’t know much about vampires; it didn’t seem that necessary when trying to cram a college education, bartending to pay for said education, and learning about werewolves all into her daily life. Now though, she’s wishing she’d asked Alaric something besides, _so do they sparkle?_ Alaric refused to even answer her, which Maia took to mean definitely not. 

She does know they don’t like werewolves, they tip surprisingly well, and when Luke named various downworlder leaders, Camille Belcourt was one. Maia’s pretty sure it’d be a major faux pas to deny her, and it has nothing to do with the bright red lipstick or slinky dress. 

“You’re at the door, after you,” Maia says. 

She catches a glimpse of a smirk, and then Camille speeds inside, already at the bar. 

Maia huffs out a breath, kicking the door shut behind her. “Yeah, make yourself at home.” 

Camille smiles, canines flashing. “Let me guess, a sea breeze?” 

Maia was going to get a glass of water, but Camille’s already making it in record speed, and she _does_ rather like them. 

“How’d you guess?” 

Camille’s canines look positively vicious up close, and Maia hasn’t been drinking enough to have thoughts like that. Camille slides the drink to her, ice clinking. 

She pours a glass of blood for herself, gesturing to the specials chalkboard. “‘Try Maia’s favorite Sea Breeze’. The cute doodles aren’t yours then?” 

Maia snorts, can’t believe she missed Gretel changing her board again. At least it’s tamer than last week’s _ask your favorite bartender for a screaming orgasm_. 

Camille’s eyebrows pop, and Maia groans, realizing she definitely said that out loud. Just her luck. 

Maia sips her drink quickly, nose crinkling when she tastes different. There’s the Grey Goose and cranberry juice and grapefruit juice as expected, but there’s also something else. Something she’d identify a hell of a lot faster if she hadn’t had a few drinks while cleaning up. 

“Pomegranate juice?” Maia finally asks and Camille smiles. If Maia was experimenting, she probably would have gone apricot but the pomegranate surprisingly works, doesn’t overpower it. She’ll have to keep it in mind for next time. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Maia asks, and Camille saunters around the bar, hips swaying in the gray silk dress, sitting at the stool beside her. 

“Your future as the Alpha of New York,” Camille says as easy as you please. 

Maia chokes, suddenly wishes she was drinking something harder to wash the roughness down. “I’m not- Luke’s my alpha.” 

Camille practically pouts, “And Luke always acts in the pack’s best interest?” 

Maia’s jaw clenches- she isn’t about to betray her pack over a pretty smile and nice drink- and Camille hastily adds, “That wasn’t fair to ask you, but just think about who he helps the most.” 

The red-headed shadowhunter comes to mind fast, and she spits out, “It’s not worth killing him over.” 

“Not yet,” Camille murmurs, and Maia hates herself for knowing how the sentence ends. That it’s only a matter of time until the shadowhunters ask too much and Luke complies. Half the pack’s been grumbling about it behind his back, talking about mixed loyalties. None of them would make a good alpha- none of the ones that would try. Maia takes a deep sip, doesn’t taste it until it’s already halfway down her throat. 

“Luke saved me,” Maia says, and it’s always been easier to confess to a near-stranger. “I couldn’t kill him.” 

The way Camille’s lips twist imply she doesn’t believe it, but she just says, “No matter. I’m a patient woman, I have eternity.” 

Maia’s eyebrows furrow at that, “Why me?”

Camille shrugs a single shoulder, “You’re young. You don’t believe the worst in vampires, or you wouldn’t let us be alone.”

Maia swallows, the tension too thick, “Are you saying the older wolves are too jaded?”

Camille lets out a pretty little laugh, warmth flooding Maia’s chest. “Mhmm. It’s been a few centuries,” she says. 

“And you think we can change that?” Maia asks, finishing her drink. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought otherwise.” Camille stands, glancing at her glass. “Another round?” 

Maia can’t help a smile, “Sure. Do you always try to get your new alliance partners drunk?” 

Camille’s fingers tap her lips, long nails certainly hiding a smirk. “Only when I want to know them better.” 

“Bathroom,” Maia blurts out, cheeks positively burning at the first word that came to mind. “I’ll be right back.” 

A few minutes later, Maia’s bladder is empty, her hands smell overwhelmingly of the cheap commercial ‘lilac’ soap, and she’s leaning over the counter staring at her reflection. 

“Okay,” she near-silently whispers so a certain someone doesn’t overhear. “So we’re not gonna do something or say anything else stupid in front of the pretty girl- woman. We’re so cool and she likes us. We’re not gonna fuck it up. We can do this, just casual and easy. Nothing scary about that.” 

Maia exhales, looking to the mirror again- dilated pupils, quicker heart rate, work shirt with an extra button undone and chuckles. Yeah, casual and easy, nailing it. The girl in the mirror still has a wild grin though, and Maia heads back out, weightless. 

Camille isn’t at the bar anymore, settled into their largest circular booth. Maia’s halfway there when she recognizes the shiny droplet on her upper lip as blood, and Camille doesn’t break eye-contact, licking her lips clean. It shouldn’t be so hot, she thinks and is quickly followed by, what a great time to discover _that_ kink.

Maia isn’t sure how she makes it to the booth without tripping or spontaneously combusting. But she does. Emboldened, she slides around to be right next to Camille, her head spinning. 

“Why not the warlocks and seelies?” Maia asks, tacking on, “I mean, why not involve them too?” 

“You’re so sweet,” Camille says, sighs. “They aren’t like us- created. They’re born as downworlders, prideful of their powers. The only way to be equal in either of their eyes is if we are one united group.” 

“But-” Maia starts, not sure where she was going when Camille’s hand appears on her thigh. Warmer than she expected for a vampire, like summer rain. 

“Seelies and warlocks only care about their own, survivalists. We can do more, we can _thrive_.” 

Maia doesn’t have an answer to that. She needs to talk to Luke- maybe not Luke- to Gretel and Alaric about all this first. 

She pushes Camille’s hand off her, revels a bit in her surprised-confused-apologetic shifting expression, and climbs into her lap. 

“Tell me more about becoming one,” Maia says, her hands pushing Camille’s arms up against the wall and pinning them there. 

Camille doesn’t free her hands, sits up taller instead, pressing them close enough for Maia to feel the absence of every breath with her own, every heartbeat with her own. 

“For the vampires, I’ll give you the best gift of all- hunger. To never tire when chasing down your enemy or meal, to crave so much you are never full and always wanting. To keep your teeth sharp in times of need and plenty.” Camille leans in, lips moving against her earlobe, “To always know what you want.” 

Maia’s chest rumbles with a contained laugh, has to if she wants to avoid all the shivers, and Camille leans back to meet her eyes. 

“I already know what I want.”

Maia kisses her, releasing her hands to cup her face. In theory, Maia knew Camille would taste different- perhaps even unpleasant- with her heightened senses and the whole undead thing. But Camille tastes so familiar it hurts, like the morning after each one of her turnings. Foreign blood and hints of things she doesn’t want to quantify. 

It’s never tasted safe before, it isn’t about to start now. 

(It’d be too easy to become swept up in Camille, she needs to keep reality in check.)

Maia breaks the kiss and Camille nips at her lower lip in a way that sends her head reeling. Next time- fuck she was already thinking about a next time- maybe next time, they’d do that.

“And what will you give me little wolf?” Camille asks, her hands sliding up the back of her shirt. 

Maia grins, the answer hitting her. “What you clearly desperately need.” 

“Oh?” Camille says, pulling her shirt off, “And what’s that?” 

Maia shivers at the exposure, pressing closer, “The unexpected. You’re immortal and bored, what haven’t you done?” 

Camille doesn’t reply right away, and Maia fears she might’ve overstepped, the sudden silence deafening. 

“Minx,” she finally declares with a short laugh, spinning them around and pinning Maia to the booth’s bench. There’s a little too much curvature to lay out completely, so after Camille pulls the rest of her clothes off, Maia keeps her knees bent up. Camille herself is down to pretty emerald lingerie and heels, and Maia intends to fix that. But then Camille’s kissing her thigh, and well- surely it can wait a few moments. 

Camille’s fingers race ahead of her mouth, squeezing and rubbing her thighs before she mouths at them. And then she’s hesitating over the top of her left leg, her right hand stroking her pussy with teasing, barely-there touches. Maia figures out what she’s about to do just before she does it, teeth sinking into her thigh. 

Pain and pleasure swarm before her blurred vision, and distantly she realizes Camille’s fingers are finally actually touching her clit and her teeth didn’t break her skin. She still sucks a mark before centering herself, looking up with a pleased smirk. 

“Next time, I’ll drink from you.”

“Smug va-” Maia’s voice cracks as Camille’s mouth latches onto her clit, alternating between sucking and quick flicks of the tongue. The not-breathing thing hits her again when Camille doesn’t bother moving her mouth, and it hits her that Camille won’t be moving until she comes and that sends a new wave of arousal through her. She can smell herself, is literally dripping onto the leather- _fuck_ she’s so having Camille help her clean up after. And then Camille’s fingers finally dip into her, a relief to be able to clench around something as she gets closer and closer. 

Maia grabs Camille’s free hand, her hold tight. Every time Camille’s fingers curl up inside her, her hips shake and she grips both hands all the tighter. 

Camille smirks up at her, all the warning she gets before she starts fucking _vibrating_ her fingers and tongue. It’s a complete sensory overload, red and orange splashing behind closed eyelids and her legs locking around Camille. Maia groans loudly, pleasure engulfing her as she orgasms. Camille works her down gently, soft kitten licks and light pats until Maia pulls her up, pleasure beginning to edge into a negative sort of too much. 

“Well damn, that’s a neat party trick,” Maia says, voice completely shot. 

Camille laughs softly, kissing her gently. “Vampire speed, worth learning how to isolate.” 

“Ch’yeah,” Maia agrees, lazily petting her hair. “I’ll get you back once my brain is online.” 

Camille smiles, “Good. I was hoping to ask my favorite bartender for a screaming orgasm.” 

Maia groans, slapping a hand over her eyes, grumbling, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”


End file.
